A Scandal in Hogwarts --The Imaginary Journal Series
by LarkspurLilMoon
Summary: I discover that I am a Witch. I, Neries, choose the school I wish to attend and select Hogwarts (despite living in America). There I meet John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, and many of their friends. At Hogwarts quite the adventures and scandals go on, causing mayhem and chaos. What house am I in? Will I get out alive? That is for you and I to find out.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N I would like to acknowledge that this Fanfiction was inspired by another brilliant author. Here is the link to her profile and story this Fanfiction is based off of, simply with one of two more characters:_

_ Story (no spaces): www. Fanfiction s/8038866/1/A-Study-In-Magic_

_Profile (no spaces): www. Fanfiction u/3699953/DoctorHarryEmrysWatson_

_I would also like to thank Quinn for editing the first chapter for me! Enjoy!_

I come inside after a visit to my friend's house, smiling with memories of the great, silly summer fun. I'm walking by, going to get on my laptop to browse the internet, when I see an envelope left at my place by my Dad. I shrug off my backpack and pick up the envelope curiously. The texture is rough and it is lettered neatly in dark, purple ink:

_Neries__ Tripull_

_Upstairs, the room at the end of the hallway,_

_2508 Gregory Street,_

_Finit, Wyoming, United States_

_82485_

I raise my eyebrow. My _room?_ My insides tingle as I begin to slowly open the top of the letter. I have a feeling of what this might be….

**Three years earlier:**

"Where are you going?" I asked Artalia, as I watched her pack clothes and all sorts of strange things. "And who was that you went off… wherever you went to buy your stuff with?"

Tally just shook her head. "I have to go somewhere. Didn't the officials talk to you?"

I nodded. "They said something about a school for witchcraft and sorcery. What about Mom and Dad?" I asked.

"The Ministry Officials talked to them. But, I'm not going to the school in America. I decided on going somewhere else."

I looked at her curiously with my large, shining brown, eight-year-old eyes. "Where?"

She looked at me. "The school in New Zealand, Da'karabell, looks like a better place for me, and you know, New Zealand!" she said kindly.

I nodded. "But, why can't I come? Don't I have magic?" I plead the last sentence, fearing I don't, fearing I'm what the officials had called a "Muggle."

She crouched down just slightly, gazing intently with her golden-brown eyes into my face, she said seriously, "Neries, I've been reading my books," I looked back at her, showing I was listening. I was desperate for a grain of comfort.

"Magic seems to administer itself by at least the age of eight, sometimes younger." I nodded again, fear clenching my heart. I _was_ eight. She smiled encouragingly at me. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I've seen a few tell-tale signs."

"Really?" I asked earnestly and hopefully.

She nodded. "Yes. _And_ it's not uncommon for siblings, even with Muggle Borns, well, witches born by non-magical parents, to have siblings who also have magical powers." She said hopefully, encouragingly.

I nodded eagerly. "So… I might be magical too, then?" She smiles and nods back. I beam at her.

"Will you write to me?" I asked her, as I watched her continuing to pack.

She looked at me then with a condescending air, "Of course, you ding-dong," she said with sarcastic fondness.

I smiled, "Good. I just wanted to check!" I looked over at the cage with a beautiful snowy owl. I should have been paying more attention. "How...?" My voice trails off in wonder, and she turned toward the snowy.

I heard the joy in Tally's voice as she answered me. "That's Nycetta. That's how they deliver letters in the Wizarding World. By owl."

My eyes widened. "So… I'll be...?" She nodded joy on her face.

I laughed happily at the thought of an owl flying here to deliver me letters, but there was still a slight doubt I would never be chosen as a witch.

My first letter from Tally came a few weeks after school started. I heard a hooting, and I stood up, confused, and opened the curtains, to see a snowy owl peering at me intently. I realized it was Nycetta. I hurriedly opened the window, and she flew softly and silently in, an envelope attached to her leg. I quickly took it off, opened it and read what it says.

_Neries,_

_It's really stupid, but they don't have internet in the Wizarding World! So we can't chat. I took my laptop, naturally, but electrical devices don't work around the school! I talked to the headmaster about it, and he said it was a precaution. I proposed a Wizarding internet, since it's much faster to get messages to and from people and find information, but he seemed to think the idea ludicrous! I'm going to have to take some action there._

_Anyway, besides that, it's amazing here! The school grounds are gorgeous, there is a big cherry tree and even a lake! You know how everyone thinks magic is easy in the Muggle world, it's not and I don't know why they'd thing that! It's fun, and somewhat challenging, but it takes seven years of study before you can get a job in the Wizarding World. I'm really glad I went to New Zealand instead of the American school._

_Write be back soon, k? I want to know what's happening with you and Mom and Dad._

_Lots of Love,_

_Tally_

_P.S. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get a letter when you turn eleven, too._

I had a hard time making out the words, both because I was only eight and because of my sister's atrocious hand writing. After making out all of the words, I sat back, sighing, and hoping that she was right about the letter. Nycetta pecked at me, and I thought she was asking for food, so after getting her a little food and water, I wrote a letter back and watched her fly out the window.

**Present time:**

I look at the return address. "Vaykall School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". I gasp, and tear the envelope quickly, but carefully at the top. I pull out the letter. It is very similar to the one Artalia received three years ago. From the American school. I know I don't want to go there, but I can barely contain my excitement. I'm gasping and nearly hyperventilate in silence as I clutch the letter tightly, as though afraid it will disappear.

Then I find my voice again. "Mom, Dad!" I shout, my eyes wide. My head whips around, my wavy and curly brown hair whipping my face as I do so. I was a _witch_! It was official! Not just comforting words from my sister when I was eight! I shake with excitement as I show them the envelope and letter.

They both look happy, but somewhat disappointed at the same time. I know that, especially my mom, was hoping she wouldn't have to see me leave until I went off to college.

"I've been accepted!" I breathed in shrill excitement.

My mom recovered quickly, and asked her normal "think everything out about your future" practical questions. "Well…" she said resignedly, "I know you want to go learn and be a… witch, but you need to at least consider which school you want to go to."

I nod eagerly. I had thought about researching it before, but I knew both that access would be very difficult, and that it would simply worry and depress me, since I wasn't sure, but now…

"I will!" I said excitedly. I thought I might go to New Zealand with Artalia, but I wanted to look into it first.

I look at my dad, "I'm sure you'll figure it out." He stated in his passive way. I briefly think about the fact that other magical kids' parents who were pastors would probably forbid them, and possibly put them under lock and key to keep them from going, but not my dad. I think he decided that magical power was granted by God, like so many other gifts, such as intelligence, strength, speed, the ability to do great art, and other such talents.

I beam at the two of them, and give them tight hugs, my excitement quickly becoming pent-up energy.

"Will the officials come to talk to you about me?" I ask.

"Well, I'm sure they'll have to at least pick you up, since you have no way to get all your equipment and supplies for school and no way to get to school." My dad reasoned.

I nod, ecstatic. "I wonder when they'll get here!"

"It might say it on the letter," Dad suggested.

I quickly look. "Yes!" I exclaim. "They're coming tomorrow afternoon!"

I grin wildly. "I'm going to write to Tally!" and I dash off to my bedroom, getting a paper and a pen. I don't have an owl, yet, but I know I'll get one, and so, I just have to wait for Nycetta. I ask her if she could send a book with different schools and headmasters, so I can make my own choice, hopefully a little more quickly. I'm sure she'll be here soon, especially since it was the summer of my eleventh year, and Artalia would want to know if I'd been accepted. I couldn't wait to tell her.

I'm correct, and within half an hour, only a few minutes after finishing my letter, I hear Nycetta hooting at my window. I open it hurriedly, and rip the letter off Nycetta's leg. I read it hurriedly. She talks a bit a classes, asks about me, mom and dad. She talks about how she'd really been able to convince several people a Wizarding internet would be a good idea after telling them, and demonstrating outside of school grounds, and progress was being made, letters to different Ministries being written. I quickly glance over my own letter, and decide it's a legitimate response, despite the fact I'd written it before getting her letter.

I tie the letter to Nycetta's leg, and give her a bit of water. She hoots softly and appreciatively, and flies out the window, off to deliver my letter. However, I can't sit still.

The Officials arrive the next day, to speak to my parents again. I notice they chose the same ones, probably to give a small inkling of familiarity. It's a more brief discussion, since they already know quite a bit from Tally coming home over Holidays and summer, as well as having had it all explained the first time. My mom asks for information on other schools, in case. The officials don't look happy, but they nod, consenting. I suppose they don't like witches and wizards going off to schools besides the American one. Whipping out their wands, they somehow conjure a book, and I watch in amazement as they hand it to my parents. Mom and Dad thank them, and turn, handing the book to me. The two Ministry wizards bow slightly, and then vanish. I think Artalia had called it "apparating."

I immediately sit down, hold the book close and lovingly, I open it up to look through the schools. I thumb through names and countries, though none of them had specific areas. Tally said it had something to do with security or not wanting to reveal the locations of their schools.

I immediately see the school in New Zealand where Tally went to. As I look through the first time, I simply acknowledge all of my options. I know since I'll be living in a magical community, transportation and distance won't be quite as much of a problem. The realization suddenly dawns on me again: I'm a _witch!_ I have _magic!_ I'm going to learn how to do spells and get my own wand! I barely contain a squeal and I continue to read up on all the different schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry around the world.

After an hour or more of reading, I've narrowed my options down. I'm looking at the English school; Hogwarts, the New Zealand school, and the Canadian school. I grab a scratch piece of paper and a pen and begin jotting down information about each, and pros and cons. I bite my lip, pondering. My interest is especially piqued by Hogwarts, including the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He seems as though he is a great and wise man. I decide to talk it over with my parents. I would also love Canada, and would enjoy New Zealand, especially going there with Artalia, but I know I should make the decision mostly on the school.

The next day, I've decided mostly on Hogwarts. It seems to be one of the best schools, and is located in England, as well as having a good system, good teachers, and a good headmaster.

We talk to the officials the next day, and then devise a way to get a message to the headmaster of Hogwarts, to ask and inform him of my request.

My eyebrows come together, "You mean… I won't just be accepted?"

The official shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry, but if you are accepted, you will be receiving a letter in a few days time. If not, we shall notify you and you may apply to another school, or go to Vaykall, here in America." He says the last bit with the slightest hint of annoyance, obviously aggravated by the fact I had decided to go to another school, but acting as though it wasn't unheard of. Though maybe it was for Muggle Borns.

I wait in trepidation over the next few days; becoming anxious and antsy. From what I'd read, he seemed like a headmaster who _would_ accept me, but I couldn't be sure. I knew it would take a while for the letter to get there and back, but I couldn't help but be apprehensive.

The next morning, I wake to an annoyed and fervent hooting. I get up slowly and sleepily, opening the curtains, expecting to see Nycetta, but there's a large barn owl looking at me with deep, black eyes, hooting at me to open the window. My gut wrenches. This was either Hogwarts, or the Ministry informing me I'd been denied. I fervently yank the window open, the owl flying in, proffering me the leg with the letter, expecting me to untie it. I do with trembling fingers, and a purple seal, as well as an emblem, bearing an emblem with a Lion, Badger, Snake and Eagle. I grin broadly, recognizing it from the book, and rip open the envelope, finding three papers inside. I randomly read one hopefully and eagerly.

_Dear Ms. Tripull,_

_ We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_ Yours sincerely,_

_ Minerva McGonagall,_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

A soft sound of joy escapes me, as I pick up the next piece of paper and read the thin, slanting hand writing quickly.

_Dear Ms. Neries Tripull,_

_ I was ever so delighted to find you had chosen Hogwarts over your own country's school. I find it unique that a Muggle Born would wish to learn more about the schools available to them in the Wizarding World, and am delighted to be your new headmaster. I look forward to meeting you when term starts. Thank you for asking to become a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Albus Dumbledore,_

_ Headmaster_

The third paper I see is my list of books and supplies to get before term. I look at the barn owl. "What do you think?" I ask it. It simply stares back, indifferent. "Should I send a letter back with you?" It hoots softly and impatiently. I grin, and grab paper and pen, notifying the school that I would indeed be attending. I hesitated. Should I ask them how to get there? I decide to address the letter to Professor Dumbledore.

_ Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_ I'm pleased I was accepted, and was wondering where I could buy all of my books and supplies, if officials from _your_ ministry would come to fetch me, or how I would be able to get to school. Thank you._

_ Sincerely yours,_

_ Neries Tripull_

I tie the letter to the tired-looking owl. I give it a little food and water as normal. It hoots appreciatively before soaring out of the window, on the way to England.

A week later, a different owl raps on my window instead of hoots. I open the window to let in a Great Horned owl.

I quickly read the letter, from McGonagall this time, to see that officials from America would take me by port-key to get to London when it was time to take the train to Hogwarts. She says all the supplies would be available in America, and officials would take me to purchase them in the next few days, and if they weren't available here, order deliveries could be made from Diagon Alley if need-be.

I sit back, sighing happily. Then I remember suddenly about Ollivander! I'd read about him… I know he was probably one of the best wand-makers in the world! I wonder vaguely if I could get a wand from him. I therefore address what will hopefully be my last letter to McGonagall, hoping I wasn't annoying the school.

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_ I've read about the Wand-maker Ollivander and would like to purchase a wand from him, seeing as he is probably one of the world's best wand-makers. Would it be possible to be taken to Diagon Alley in London a few days before term starts to purchase a wand from him?_

_Sincerely,_

_Neries Tripull_

I give the letter back to Great-Horned owl, which flies quickly out of the window and off into the night. I breathe in the fresh air and crawl into bed, quickly falling asleep with the satisfactory thought of having been accepted to Hogwarts, and that I really was a witch.

In a few days time, the doorbell rang and I answer it to see the officials. They look down at me, and one addresses me, saying, "Do you have your book and supplies list? Also, money. It can be Muggle. We'll convert it at the bank for you. We're leaving for Astrashine Avenue in a few minutes." I nod hurriedly, and rush to grab the paper. My Dad asks them if a check will suffice, and when they agree, he writes one. I quickly hug my parents, assuring them I'd be back that evening, and follow the officials out the door.

I look around. "How are we getting there?" I inquire.

The official simply takes a spoon out of his long wizarding robes and says, "Portkey," simply. "Grab on to it," he finished. I tentatively grab onto it, as do the other two. The ordinary-looking spoon suddenly glows bright blue, and I feel a yank right behind my belly-button, and everything begins to spin into a blur. I felt sort of sick and nauseous as we spin faster and faster. We finally land, right next to a broken-down inn.

I don't say anything, but simply follow the officials curiously. At the old, forsaken-looking counter stands a bucket, looking strangely clean. One of the men grabs a stone right next to the counter and neatly tosses it in. I wonder what the point of it was, when suddenly, the floor moves, the counter moves aside, and suddenly there's a gate-way to a busy city street, full of witches and wizards and magical shops. My eyes grow wide, and my mouth loosens, just a little bit as I step forward.

I nod, and then feel slightly guilty as I realize I don't even know their names. "Umm… What are your names?" I request politely, hoping they weren't offended I hadn't asked until now.

The more quiet and resolved of the two answers me. "I'm Mr. Parek, and this is Mr. Elliot."

The more explanatory and friendly of the two smiles at me, "Please, call me Daris." Mr. Parek grimaces slightly at this lack of formality.

I look at my list quickly. "I need-"

My statement is cut off as Daris says, "Here," he gently takes the paper from my hands, takes out his wand and a quill, which I see doesn't need an ink-pot, due to being self-generating ink. He taps the paper with his wand, and immediately, two new copies of the list appear. He takes one, and circles all the items I need to help get, and then takes another copy, and circles all the items that can be retrieved without me. I feel slightly sad at not getting to visit all of the shops, but understand the need for faster shopping. He then hands the one list to the other official.

Mr. Parek nods, and pulls out the check my Dad had written. He taps it with his wand, and numbers appear in the air. "This is worth sixty galleons." He says curtly as he watches the numbers disintegrate in the air. "We need to get this cashed at the bank." I followed the two officials in awe, excited, a bubble of trepidation, anticipation, and joy feel like it's ready to simply burst out of my chest, and I can't help but grin broadly.

We walk into the bank, and I open my eyes wide. My sister had told me about the goblins… but it hasn't prepared me for actually seeing one. My mouth opens slightly as I smiled in wonder.

"We used to have wizards running the bank," Mr. Elliot explains. "But, after looking at the productivity and thief rates between our bank and others, _such_ as Gringotts, the London bank, we decided employing goblins would work much better."

Daris Elliot walks up and explains to the goblin, gesturing toward myself and telling him I need the muggle money taken out of my parent's account and transferred into galleons. The goblin gives me an appraising look, and nods, turning to another goblin.

"How-?" my question is cut short as Daris elucidates.

"They have American wizards working in different muggle banks to handle these transactions."

The three of us look back up as the goblin returns, and says in a gruff, but not low voice, "Gorthak has your gold, Ms. Tripull." He bowed slightly to me, and then extended his bow to Mr. Parek and Daris.

The other goblin puts a cloth sack on the counter which clinks with the sound of the coins inside. Mr. Parek takes the gold and hands it to me.

"Alright then!" Daris says, beaming down at me. "Shall we get started then?"

Mr. Parek nods briskly as he takes out his list with the items easily attained without my presence. Daris prompts me to give him some money as Mr. Parek holds out his own small money pouch. I pour in roughly half the galleons, and Mr. Parek whisks off.

Daris accompanies me. "Why don't we start you off with robes and hat?"

"Sure!" I agree, breaking into a broad smile, finally letting my delight show.

As we walk along, Mr. Elliot glances around, "Now, don't mind Eddie." I look at Daris in confusion, "Oh, Mr. Parek. He's just a little disgruntled that you chose to go to a different school. It's highly unusual for Muggle Borns, especially," he frowns slightly. "Then again, Eddie usually finds _something_ to be disgruntled about." He winks at me, and I laugh just a little. "Here we are!" he says, his dark-brown eyes twinkling. He pointed to a large shop window stating "Drorwin's Wear and Ware!" and in smaller print, "Robes, hats, gloves, cloaks and more!"

I look down at my list. "So… here I can get black wizarding robes, a hat, protective dragon hide gloves and a winter cloak?"

Mr. Elliot simply walks into the store, an old bell ringing, hardly to be heard over the sound of the crowd bustling outside. I'm quickly geared up with the four required articles of clothing, and I pay for my purchase. Leaving the shop, I ask Daris, "Where're we going next, then?"

"We'll get all of the other equipment. Eddie, ahem, Mr. Perkins is buying all of the books."

I pause bashfully after glancing at my own copy of the list, "Um… Mr. Elliot, Daris, I was… thinking I was going to buy my wand from Ollivander's, at Diagon Alley…"

"Oh," there's an awkward moment and then Daris nods and smiles. "Good choice. I've heard he's one of the best in the world! I don't know if he's better than Mr. Wierlas, but I've heard he's a _very_ skilled wand maker, and usually matches the owner and wand up to the 'T!'"

We now go and get a standard pewter cauldron, crystal phials, (Daris said they were better for potion-keeping) brass scales and a telescope.

"Well, then!" Daris says. "Perek said to meet us at the Tempest's Grasp café when we were done…" he pauses, I suppose for dramatic effect, as he expresses, "Unless you'd like an owl, cat or toad."

I feel the slightest tug on my chest at the thought. "Yes, please!" I gasp excitedly, trying not to bounce up and down.

"Come on then," he prompts warmly, striding down the street. We then arrive in a very noisy and smelly shop, titled "Fairy-tail's Magical Creatures."

I immediately make my way to the owls, all hooting, screeching and gazing around wide-eyed at each other and down at the customers. I look through the owls carefully, when my eyes fall on a small Northern Saw-whet Owl. I know it's a Saw-whet before even looking at the label, reading _Male Northern Saw-whet Owl, 9.1 inches tall: 5 Galleons, 7 silver sickles and 12 Knuts._

The little owl simply gazes back at me, silent and serene among all of the other hooting owls. "Him," I breathe, picking his cage up gingerly, and gasp with awe, smiling as I hear him hoot slightly, sounding almost exactly like a flute. I walk up to the desk with the bird cage, paying six galleons and receiving change.

When we arrive at the café to find Mr. Perek waiting, the two order food, paying themselves, and then I step up to the counter and order. As I finish my order, my eyes fall on the glass displaying a side truffle-making place, one of the truffles labeled "Frangelico," a sort of alcohol and hazel filling. I look back at my small, new owl, gazing curiously around the small shop. "Frangelico," I whisper, smiling slightly. My Saw-whet now has a name.

As we sit back at the table with our food, Daris informs Mr. Perek that I would be getting my wand from Ollivander's. He scowls a little, refusing to look at me. I suppose he must have been a true patriot, and didn't like my lack of so-called patriotism.

"Oh, come on, Eddie! It's not she doesn't like the country, she was just interested in researching the best schools, and well… We have a fine school, but maybe not the best in the world or anything. Same with wands. Lighten up! If you don't eat that sandwich, I will." He winks at me, and I try not to giggle. Mr. Perek simple sniffs, and daintily eats his own sandwich.

We head back out of the shabby-looking abandoned inn, and grab the spoon again, off on a dizzying course to my house. We arrive, with Frangelico, and my new school supplies.

Mr. Parek doesn't offer to help me bring my things into the house, and says loftily, "As you know, the _Hogwarts_ term begins September first. Seeing as it is currently August fourth, we will be fetching you to take you to Diagon Alley to buy your _wand_ on August thirtieth. You will stay at Leaky Cauldron inn then for two nights, and then go to King's Cross Station, also in London to catch the Hogwarts Express to school."

I feel a slight disappointment at the fact that it will be nearly a month until I actually get to buy a wand and go to school.

However, the time passes surprisingly fast, and soon I hear a knock on the door August thirtieth. I have all my stuff, clothes and supplies packed away, with Frangelico in his cage, making his beautiful, flute-like hoot. However, it's only Daris this time. He tells me only one official was necessary, and Mr. Perek had managed to avoid going. I grab the portkey, this time an old salt and pepper shaker, and with the jerk behind my naval, I spin through whirls of color, until we end up right in the middle of Diagon Alley. It's just as busy as Astrashine Avenue was, but with a few different shops, and slightly differently dressed people. I immediately see Ollivander's and make my way toward it, Daris by my side.

The second I walk in, somehow an eerie quiet falls. It's like I'm not simply stepping into a shop; I'm stepping back in time. The shop tingles with magic, it smells of dust and old parchment and everything is dim.

"Umm… hello?" I call out, wondering if someone would be along to help me. I hear wheels move, a click, and then a slight thump as an old man with watery grey eyes climbs down from his ladder.

"Ah! Yes! Hello, there," he says in a thin voice, though filled with joy. "And you might be?" he asks, his strange eyes wide, peering at me curiously, barely glancing at Daris standing a little distance behind me.

"Uh, well, I'm Neries Tripull. I was just here to get a wand."

"Yes, yes, here!" he nods, and grabs a tape measure, which starts measuring my height, width, distance between my eyes and other strange measurements. By itself, no less.

"Hmm… let's see," Ollivander utters, looking over the measurements. "Try this!" he exclaims, and immediately one of the boxes on the shelf flies out of its place and straight to me. I carefully grab the box and open it. I've barely touched the wand, when Ollivander flicks his own, "No, not the right match! Here's another!" he says, as another box shoots off one of the shelves, again making its way to me.

We keep going. I start feeling worried, discouraged and disappointed by the time we've gone through three dozen or so wands, each one whipped away almost immediately. Perhaps Ollivander can tell of my misgivings, because the next time he comes over, he says jovially. "We'll find the right skip! You're not the first tricky customer I've had this year!"

I nod my head, hoping he's right. After a few more minutes, I open a box, and a beautiful wand lies before my eyes. I reach out slowly, ready for Ollivander to whip it away, but he doesn't. It's a wonderful, rich brown, with darker brown looking like tree branches on the handle. A small swirl comes off the side of the wand, and the thinner, upper part of the wand is intricately designed, carved with leafy vines curling around the round structure. I pick it up, surprised it hasn't already been whisked away, and immediately feel warmth in my fingers, spreading through my body. My discouragement is banished as I grin. Without personally doing anything, the wand shoots gorgeous golden sparks from the tip. Mr. Ollivander cheers slightly, clapping.

"Ah, yes! English Oak and Dragon Heartstring. Twelve and a half inches, surprisingly swishy. One with English Oak is known to have strength and courage. They also happen to be rather intuitive and have an affinity for magic of the natural world." Mr. Ollivander's stare is slight disconcerting. "The wand chooses the wizard," he pauses, "or witch." His protuberant eyes make my spine tingle. Everything he just said is true. Especially the intuition and nature. I suppose I'm not so sure how courageous I am.

I thank Mr. Ollivander, pay him eleven galleons and eight silver sickles before Daris and I leave.

"Alright," says Daris, smiling kindly. "I'll leave you off at the Leaky Cauldron. Term starts September first, and the train leaves at eleven. Here's your ticket." He finishes, handing me a ticket for King's Cross Station, Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "Oh!" he exclaims, as he reaches into his pocket, "I almost forgot: here's some English muggle money to get a… um, taxi?" he says the word as though unsure, "To King's Cross. This should be enough. Anyway, take care! Best of wishes at Hogwarts, and don't be late for the train!

I nod, smiling, "Alright!" I say as we arrive to a wall. He taps the bricks, which open to reveal a back alley of a shabby-looking pub. We head inside.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron." Daris states, "You can pay for your room at the counter, and then take all your luggage and owl and everything up to the room the land lord gives you. I have to go now. Don't hesitate to write!" He finishes, winking at me.

I nod, and wave as he heads out the door, and make my way over to the bartender. I ask him about a room. He grins toothlessly at me, and hands me a key as I hand him some wizarding coins. I look at the number on the key, and head to my room, setting Frangelico down near the bed, and set down the rest of my luggage.

The next few days pass quickly. I wonder the streets of Diagon Alley, looking at the interesting things, read my books in my room, and get ice cream from the shop near the Leaky Cauldron.

I wake up the morning of the first to Frin (as I had nicknamed Frangelico) hooting with his lovely musical, flute-like sound, and stretch. I look at the clock near my bedside and leap out of bed. It's nine thirty in the morning! I quickly get dressed, and Tom, the bar-keeper gives me a little food, which I scarf down, and then, hauling all of my luggage and Frin's owl cage along, I hurry down the muggle streets, hailing a taxi, after having watched a few others do it, being unfamiliar with it myself.

"King's Cross Station." I say to the driver, and hand them some notes of pounds. They drive away, and it takes nearly half an hour to drive through all of the London traffic. Once we arrive, I pull my luggage out, hauling my trunk, cage and various other bags and items in. I take the ticket out of my pocket, and freeze as I walk inside. There was no Platform Nine and Three Quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk hurriedly between the two barriers, wondering if there was a bucket to put something in, or if I had to tap the bricks like Diagon Alley. I then see some others with similar luggage, and wizarding-like robes. Relieved, I watch them disappear into the wall. I blink several times. I'm not sure about it, but I suppose there's no harm in leaning against the barrier. It wouldn't look too unnatural if it was incorrect, and if I was I wouldn't miss the train. If this doesn't work, I would panic. The train is leaving in ten minutes.

I walk up, and casually lean into the barrier. I stumble as I fall through, pulling my luggage with me as I clutch it. I gasp as I step into platform nine and three quarters. The Hogwart's Express train blows steam and there are wizarding parents rushing their own kids onto the train, owls hooting, cats meowing. I climb aboard slowly, having some difficulting managing my large trunk and other bags and items. I find an empty compartment, and sit down, staring out the window at all the interesting and multiple going-on's of the platform. A minute or so later I hear a huffing and a clunk behind me, and I turn curiously. I turn to see a boy about my height, maybe only half an inch shorter, with a button-like nose, dark blue-grey eyes and golden blond hair.

"Is this… compartment…taken?" he panted, hauling his large, heavy trunk and other luggage along with him.

I smile, and shake my head. "Do you need help?" I asked politely.

He shakes his head in a determined way, and proceeds to pull his luggage into the compartment through the glass door, sliding it shut behind him. He puts his things in the luggage rack above the seat across from me and sits down, staring out the window of the train.

"Hi," I say.

He gulps and says a quiet, "hello," back.

I look back out of the window, thinking by his quietness he wishes to be left alone.

The train blows its whistle, and the last-minute students clamber on hurriedly. My heart jumps with excitement, and I grin out the window, my breath slightly fogging up the glass. The train slowly works into motion, chugging and the wheels begin moving, the platform slowly begin to slide by. I can't help but wiggle my feet and fingers just a little, excitement flooding my body with energy. The train picks up speed, and faster and faster until the platform is gone and we're hurtling through a dark tunnel, until we suddenly come out into the bright sunlight, the train beginning a steady pace with no more acceleration. For a few hours, the two of us sit mostly in silence, staring out the window as the countryside passes by on the way to Hogwarts.

The boy clears his throat after this long period of silence. I look over at him. "I… I'm John." He says nervously.

I smile in amusement. So he _does_ want to talk, he's just shy. "Hello, John, I'm Neries."

"That's an interesting name." He replies, more relaxed.

"Thanks,"

"How did you get such a name?"

I ponder for a second, "I don't know if you've heard of it, but my parents named me after a Star Trek character; they just didn't spell it the same."

John nods. "I've heard of it."

"I thought you were a muggleborn too." I nod.

He looks mildly embarrassed, and I quickly apologize. "No, it's fine." He says. Then he frowns slightly. "I'm a little… confused…" he hesitates, "You don't have any kind of, well, accent."

"English accent?" I ask, and he confirms with a nod, "That's because… I'm from America."

His eyebrows shoot up, "But… I thought you just said you were a muggleborn?"

I grin mischievously, "I am."

John's frown deepens. "Then… how did you know about Hogwarts? I had no _clue_ about it until I got the letter."

I continue smiling, "I researched. And my sister is a witch, and she researched her school options too."

John grimaces, "I never even _thought_ of doing that," he grumbles.

"Don't worry," I consol him, "This is one of the best schools in the world!"

He smiles slightly and nods, looking like he feels a little better. I'm about to ask him another question when there's a knock on our compartment door and a smiling lady with a large trolley of delicious foods, drinks and candies is outside. My mouth begins watering at the sight. I jump up. "You hungry?" I ask John. He shrugs, but looks rather hopefully and greedily at the trolley himself, standing up, he opens the door.

The lady smiles, "Care for anything to eat or drink, my dears?" she asks kindly.

"Yes, please!" we say at the same time, and her grin widens, a friendly twinkle in her eye.

The kind of treats are ones I'd only heard of only from Tally, and some of them not even, since we were in Britain and not New Zealand.

Pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs, everything looked delicious. There were iced bottles of what she said was pumpkin juice, and took a little bit of everything that looked even remotely interesting. I'd heard of Bertie Bots, and I didn't touch those, but John got some anyway. We both began digging in. He got out the Bertie Bots every flavor beans.

"Be careful," I warned him, nodding at the box.

He gives me a confused look.

"Those are _every flavor beans_. The _mean_ every flavor. Yes, there's normal ones like strawberry or mint, but there's spinach and booger and all sorts of flavors." I shudder. I didn't like Jellybeans much anyway.

He grins, "Okay, sounds like a bit of an adventure to me."

"Don't say I didn't warn you!"

I pull out the chocolate frog and begin happily eating it, and look at the card inside. I received Rowena Ravenclaw. "Did you get any chocolate frogs?" I ask John.

John nods, and begins opening his. "Herpo the Foul." He replies, looking at his own card.

"I've heard it's a big kind of card trading thing in the Wizarding World with the chocolate frog cards. They each have a different famous witch or wizard." I explain.

"Cool," he says simply, and we simultaneously begin looking through the other few boxes of frog cards we have, going through the different things. After about twenty minutes of talking, eating and trading, the compartment door slides open to a smallish boy with a round face, looking rather depressed.

"I was wondering, if you've seen a toad?" he asked hopefully, anxiety filling his face. "I'm Neville, by the way," he adds.

We both shake our heads, "Sorry," I say, shrugging.

"I've lost him!" Neville wails, "Gran is going to _kill_ me!" He leaves our compartment again. Frin hoots loudly at Neville's sudden entrance and exit, his beautiful flute melody filling the compartment for a minute. I narrow my eyes slightly, trying to remember my question.

"Oh," I say, "I was wondering what kind of wand you have? If you don't mind, of course."

"Oh, sure," he pulls down a bag from his luggage, and slips a long, thin box out of it. Opening it, he takes out his wand. "It's Ash and Phoenix Feather, 10 and 3/4 Inches."

I nod enthusiastically. "Do you want to see my wand?" and he shrugs with a slight nod. I pull mine out. "12 and a half inches, English oak, dragon heartstring." I say proudly, offering him to take a closer look at it. He takes it, marveling at the workmanship. He compares it with his wand.

"Nice," he says in amazement of my wand, "But I still like mine better," he says, half jokingly.

I laugh slightly. "Good. Well I like mine better, so I suppose we're well matched to our wands!" He smiles at me sheepishly, getting more comfortable after getting to know me.

The compartment door slides open again, just as John was handing my wand back. We look up to see who it is. In comes a girl with even curlier, bushier hair than mine, more freckles, and buckteeth, and an upright, and bossy air.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one!" I look past her and see Neville skulking behind her.

"We already said we hadn't," I explain patiently, despite her quick, brisk, bossy voice.

"Well, if you _do _see one, let us know immediately!" she's about to whisk off when she sees our wands. "Ooo, were you doing magic?" she asks eagerly.

"No," John and I say at the same time.

"We were just comparing wands," John shrugs.

"Well, you should probably change. I'm sure we'll be there soon!" and she whips around, walking swiftly past Neville, the compartment door slamming behind her.

I sigh. "Anyway," I continue, "I'm curious, what's your last name? Mine's Tripull."

"Oh, Watson," he says.

I nod, "Any idea what house you'll be in?" I inquire excitedly.

"Well…I don't know," he shrugs.

"Oh, come on! Just guess. Or what house do you _want_ to be in?"

"I'd like Gryffindor… but I might just end up in Hufflepuff." He shrugs

"Hufflepuff is good!" I exclaim. He gives me a withering glance. Apparently he'd heard enough of the rumors about them. I grimace, "Seriously, Hufflepuff is great! They're loyal and hardworking, so they'll achieve their goals in life. There're _loads_ of successful Hufflepuffs!" John shrugs, looking slightly more convinced.

"What house do you want to be in?" he asks.

I hesitate, biting my lip. "Oh… I don't know. Probably… Gryffindor of Ravenclaw. Those are… I think the most likely for me." I shrug, and John nods. "But I'm happy just to be going!" I pause, "And we _should_ probably change, just in case." We both get up and the two of us split up to find the train's restrooms in order to change, and find our way back to the compartment.

The compartment is in silent again and it begins raining, the water pattering against the glass, forming streaks and droplets. The sky is a bubbling, stormy gray and the world looks less colorful, but somehow the rain makes it more beautiful. I sigh quietly. Frangelico hoots at me in annoyance after five or ten minutes.

I look around at him. "Oh, did you want out?" He gives a single melodic hoot. I open his cage, and he flaps up into the racks above, looking down on the two of us, seemingly much more content.

After another period of silence, John speaks up. "What… do you know about Hogwarts?" he inquires.

"Oh, well, several things. I know about the houses, the teachers, the headmaster, the great hall, house points…" my voice fades out as I come to the end of the list. I'm beginning to feel rather sleepy. And a bit hungry.

"What's… the great hall?" he asks

"It's where all the students go for important gatherings and breakfast, lunch and dinner. There they have the hourglasses with the house points recorded with different gemstones. I think yellow amber for Hufflepuff, sapphires for Ravenclaws, emeralds for Slytherins and rubies for Gryffindors." John's eyes widen. "Oh, and the ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside, so it looks like there's no ceiling at all! But you don't get wet if it's raining or snowing." John's mouth loosened slightly.

"That's brilliant," he breathes.

A big grin splits my face, "I know it is!" I exclaim with excitement.

"So, who are our teachers? What kind of classes are there?"

"Well…" I begin, "Some of them are sort of electives, but you can't take those on until third year. First year you just take basics; History, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy and Potions. I don't know who the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is… that changes every year for some reason, but the History teacher is Professor Binns; he's a ghost who didn't retire, Charms is Professor Flitwick; he's the head of the Ravenclaws. The Transfiguration teacher is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and she's both Deputy Headmistress _and_ the head of Gryffindor. The Astronomy teacher is Professor Sinistra and the head of Slytherin house and the Potions Master is Professor Snape." I pause for a second to see if I've forgotten anything or anyone, and satisfied, look at John, who simply looks like he doesn't know what to say.

A few minutes later, a nasally voice comes over the com. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in 5 minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train begins slowing by the time we're both in there, and I have a hard time getting Frin to go back into his cage. When the train comes to a stop, we both have our muggle clothes packed away, wands, wrappers taken care of and luggage ready in the racks to be taken away.

I breathe slowly, my nerves on a jitter. I had no idea what house I'd be in, if I'd be good at magic, how they _sorted_ you, or anything. I give John a cheesy smile, "Ready?" I ask nervously.

"As I'll ever be," he mutters, and we each file out of the train.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!" John and I made our way over to the large hairy figure calling out for our class, and I'm suddenly extremely relieved I have a friend to experience this with, instead of being all alone. At least, I hope we're friends. We follow him down a steep, narrow path in the extreme dark. I hear Neville sniffing a few times, probably at the loss of his toad. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the large man called to us over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

All of us gasp, "Oooooh!"

The path had just opened abruptly on the edge of a huge, glassy black lake. On a mountain across the lake, windows sparkling in the starry sky, the vast castle of Hogwarts stands with its many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" our chauffer shouts, pointing to several little boats sitting in the water by the shore. John, myself and two others we didn't know—a girl with brown hair in a side-ponytail, and a tall boy with dark, raven-black curls and piercing light blue eyes, who was examining all three of us silently—climb into a single boat together.

"I'm Molly," the girl whispers quietly as we filed into our boat.

"John, and this is Neries," John fills in, gesturing toward himself and then me.

We turn our gaze on the raven-haired boy, who doesn't say anything.

"What's your name?" I ask the other boy, just as the large man shouts,

"Everyone in?... Right then—FORWARD!"

"Sherlock Holmes," he mutters, and none of us say another word as the fleet of boats moved all at once, slipping noiselessly across the great, glassy lake. No one in any of the other boats say a word, either, and complete silence fills the air as everyone gazes, transfixed at the castle overhead, towering over us as we sail closer and closer to the cliff on which it stands.

"Heads down!" our guide yelled as the first boats reach the cliff, all of us bending our heads compliantly, the boats taking us through a curtain of ivy hiding the wide opening in the cliff face. We move through a black tunnel, and then we reach a sort of underground harbor, and we all clamber onto the rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" the man asks Neville.

"Trevor!" Neville cries with happiness, holding his hands out to receive his lost pet.

We are all then directed to hike up a sort of passageway, until we finally come out on a lawn of smoothly cut, slightly wet grass, right beneath the castle. We walk up the steps, and crowd around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?

He then turns and knocks with his gigantic fist three times on the castle door, which swings open at once. A tall witch with dark hair in a tight bun stands before us all.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the man says.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." So that was his name. He was the keeper of keys and grounds at the castle. We all nervously follow her, and she shows us into a small, empty chamber off the great hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she states, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly , but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

I smooth down, and run my fingers through a few of the tangles in my hair, and John brushes at his own, Molly tightening her ponytail. Sherlock, however, does nothing and simply stares around at everyone, taking in every detail. Everyone begins talking in low voices, but I simply don't feel like it, a nervous knot in my chest. I simply can't wait to be sorted, excitement filling me up to the brim. Suddenly there's several loud screams, and a few exclaimations. Several people around us gasp. Around twenty or so ghosts had just streamed through the wall. They were a glistening, pearly white, and translucent. They glide above us, talking amongst themselves, hardly glancing at us, seemingly to be arguing. I catch a few words being said about some ghost causing trouble. The ghost speaking suddenly cuts off, "I say, what are you all doing here?"

"New students!" exclaims the ghost I've gathered is called the Fat Friar, who smiles down at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" he asks. A few of us nod silently. I'm not too surprised by the entrance, due to having read up on Hogwarts, but it's still far different than seeing a ghost with your own two eyes.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he says, "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," says a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall sweeps in, and the ghosts float through the other wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall tell us, "and follow me."

I shiver mildly with excitement and anticipation, and we all follow her, all of us as if holding our breath in nervousness. It's even more amazing than I'd imagined it. I gaze at the four tables, the tables at the head, the hourglasses with rubies, the beautiful starry night sky, and I hear Hermione whispering about it.

Professor Mcgonagall quietly places a four-legged stool in front of our group and places a frayed, patched, dirty wizard's hat on top of it.

The hat twitches, a rip opens and the hat begins to sing:

_Oh you may not think me pretty,__  
__But don't judge on what you see,__  
__I'll eat myself if you can find__  
__A smarter hat than me.___

_You can keep your bowlers black,__  
__Your top hats sleek and tall,__  
__For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat__  
__And I can cap them all.___

_There's nothing hidden in your head__  
__The Sorting Hat can't see,__  
__So try me on and I will tell you__  
__Where you ought to be.___

_You might belong in Gryffindor,__  
__Where dwell the brave at heart,__  
__Their daring, nerve, and chivalry__  
__Set Gryffindors apart;___

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,__  
__Where they are just and loyal,__  
__Those patient Hufflepuffs are true__  
__And unafraid of toil;___

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,__  
__if you've a ready mind,__  
__Where those of wit and learning,__  
__Will always find their kind;___

_Or perhaps in Slytherin__  
__You'll make your real friends,__  
__Those cunning folks use any means__  
__To achieve their ends.___

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!__  
__And don't get in a flap!__  
__You're in safe hands (though I have none)__  
__For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

McGonagall begins calling people alphabetically, and, Sherlock, who was standing near John, Molly and I, began muttering houses before they had put on the Sorting Hat, and to my surprise, he was right nearly every time. I pay the attention to the people I have met, simply watching and listening to the others. First person I know is Hermione Granger, who is, after a _very_ long time, sorted into Gryffindor. The next person I pay attention to after several more people was Sherlock, who was in the boat with us, and strides up, completely calm.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouts almost the second it touches his head. Immediately after him is Molly, and after about twenty or thirty seconds, the hat shouts, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Several more minutes pass as different students are sorted then Neville goes up. Nearly five minutes pass before the hats shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"

, I pay attention when, "Potter, Harry," is called, because I knew enough about him, to be extremely interested. A hush falls over everyone as he walks up and the hat falls down below his eyes, like it had on everyone else. After several minutes, the hats shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" And shouts and applause burst from that table, several people yelling, "WE GOT HARRY!"

Several more minutes pass, and I begin tapping my foot nervously as the alphabet nears my name. Finally, "Tripull, Neries."

I step up to the stool, holding my head high, even though it feels like something is eating my insides with anxiety. I carefully lift the hat up, and, just before it falls over my eyes, I see Sherlock staring at me, and I read his lips, which form the word, "_Gryffindor,"_ He wasn't right every single time, and I decide to keep impartial.

A small voice starts in my head, _Hmm… very tricky. Loyal and honest, yes, and plenty of ambition. A lot of courage and quite a good brain too."_ My stomach squirms, "_Hmm… so… to put you with the brave or the brainy… that is the question…"_

I start to feel small and scared, _Hurry up, _I think. I don't want to keep people waiting, and I hated being on the spot, even if I couldn't see my audience.

"_Patience,"_ the hat thinks with some amusment, and I feel like I squirming on the spot, without moving. The hat is suddenly silent. It's not saying anything to me, and it's not shouting out a house. My stomach drops to my toes, and my throat drops to my stomach, and I feel like I can't breathe. As though to reassure me, the hat speaks in my head again, _"Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Do you want to be with the bold or the wise?" _I shake my head, barely, but just slightly, thinking furiously, _I don't know, I don't know._ I had no idea, _I'd_ have to decide.

After a few more minutes, the hat _finally_ shouts, "RAVENCLAW!"

Relieved the wait was finally over, I gratefully take off the hat and place it on the stool, walking smoothly to the students adorning blue colors, who were cheering and applauding. I walk over to Sherlock, and sit down, smirking slightly.

I don't say anything for a minute, and then I say quietly, as he continues quietly stating houses, continuing to get it correct. "You were wrong."

He turns and glares at me. "Very nearly right."

"Yes," I admit. It had been a close call. "But still wrong."

He turned away again, continuing to state the houses for the students.

"Watson, John."

I watch as John, one of the very last ones, walks up, and puts the hat on.

"Urgh Gryffindor." I glare at Sherlock, who glances at me and doesn't miss the look.

"There's nothing wrong with Gryffindors," I hiss. He shrugs and doesn't respond.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Ravenclaw smirks as the hat proves him accurate once more. He rolled his eyes. I frown slightly at the confirmation. I'd been hoping we were in the same house. He glances at me, and gives me a smile, though I can tell he'd been hoping the same.

"Er… excuse me?" The raven-haired boy gazes around at the girl who spoke to him. "Sorry to bother you, my name is Padma Patil. I was wondering how you do that?"

"Do what?" Sherlock asks Padma.

"Well, since I've joined you at this table you've been able to predict the house each student is going to be sorting into before they even put that hat on." The girl next to Padma chipped in, who I think her name was Lily… Moon? Sherlock leans closer to the girls and apprehension dawned on their faces.  
"There's a reason why I'm in Ravenclaw. Gryffindor." He turns away from the girls to watch Ronald Weasley being sorted into Gryffindor.

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, it's called _observation._" I was starting to get seriously annoyed with his superior air. He glances at me in an annoyed fashion, having stolen his mysterious air, and we each go back to watching the ceremonies, as they nearly come to a close.


End file.
